For a fraction of a second, her eyebrows raise there while she expects the insult to land - and then her expression settles into something like satisfaction, when he avoids foul language and manages to convey something like good wishes to boot.

It makes her crack a grin. "Well - that was very diplomatic," she says, with some wry humour.

Around them, the remaining professors are mingling with new and former colleagues, and she imagines that sooner or later someone will come to greet Malfoy too. She wonders how many of them remember him as that terrified young man, pushed towards Voldemort's side by a toxic combination of family love and loyalty to the wrong monster. Maybe it would be best for him, if they don't.

She puts her hands in the pockets of her cloak out of habit, to hide the nervous ticks, the twitch in her fingers; he unsettles her, but maybe not in the same way he did when they were classmates.

There's going to be no academic rivalry now, to give them some common purpose. She can almost imagine Ron's outrage in the future, when he finds out she tended not one but two olive branches to Draco Malfoy. (Not Harry - Harry would get it. Harry was there at the trials, offering proof and testimony that Narcissa and Draco were not inherently evil, that he'd seen them act out of fear of Voldemort in their house. Harry would likely approve, albeit silently, that Hermione is also able to move on.)

Maybe it's pettiness that makes her do it, because she can't be bothered to be wary of Weasley judgement anymore. But she waits for one second, and then steps closer, almost conspiratorial.

"Look, Malfoy, let's just try to get along. I'm not going to attempt to be your foil here, and I'd rather appreciate it if you can return the favour. We can be colleagues - I expect it'll benefit us both better if we are."